Unsaid
by smiley.purple.dragon1
Summary: Dealing with loss, from the point of view of Annie Odair. How she fought through the madness threatening to engulf her in order to have her baby. Annie's POV, with Mrs Everdeen and a bit of Finnick and Katniss.


At first, she couldn't speak of him. Before the bump, before the kick, she wouldn't think of anything – it was too painful. She lay on Mrs Everdeen's couch, running from her past and all the feelings thinking of it would bring. She zoned out. Some days she could barely move, some days she couldn't move at all. It felt like her body wasn't hers, so she shouldn't move it. Her mind wasn't hers either – block all emotions, all movement. Lie still. _You're numb_. Don't move.

It was a coping mechanism, to keep her from going insane. But it was it's own insanity. Mrs Everdeen fed her, cared for her. Annie supposed, in a part of her mind she wasn't quite conscious of, that caring for her filled the hole in her heart from losing Prim.

Mrs Everdeen tried to broach the subject with her one day. "Annie, I notice you've been eating a lot more recently, and your breasts are getting bigger, I – I'm not sure if you have realized this, Annie, but I think you might be—"

"Don't!" Annie screamed, her first words in months. The emptiness in her eyes was replaced with fire. "Please! I- I can't handle this!"

"Annie, we must take special care of you now. The baby—"

"No! Don't! I can't- we can't– I—" Annie broke into hysterical sobs, the first since Finnick died. Mrs Everdeen cradled Annie in her arms, and Annie cocooned herself into her embrace. Then she pulled away. "No. No, I- I can't—there's no baby. There can't—" Her sobs grew louder, and she grabbed her favourite vase, sea-green, a gift from Finnick – and she smashed it, hard against the wall.

"Finnick's gone! He's gone and he isn't ever coming back! I don't need reminders – I don't need him!" Annie was shaking now, panic building up in her throat. This baby – no, there was no baby – was too real, too tangible. Her grieving was too tangible. At even the suggestion there could be a baby, Annie felt her defenses wearing down. She hated it. She hated this hypothetical baby, too, for making her feel this way.

Mrs Everdeen picked up Annie, curled on the floor in a ball, and placed her on the couch. She covered her in a blanket – it smelled of salt, and sand, and surprisingly, of heartache – and stroked her hair. Just like a child, just like Prim. And Mrs Everdeen cried tearlessly, brokenly, until they both fell asleep.

* * *

Business was continued as normal, and the subject was never broached again. One day it was sunnier, the breath of summer in the air. Light reflected off the walls, off Annie's hair. Roused by an inexplicable feeling, Annie opened the breezy white curtains, opened the windows, and sat down on the floor. She made a cup of tea and- what was it she was doing again? Perhaps dazed, or perhaps slightly unhinged, she walked out to the beach.

The soft sand between her toes, the icy water providing relief from the garish sun – she felt almost like herself again. She spotted a fishing boat, two people laughing as they went out to sea, and this feeling came crashing down. She wasn't herself. She couldn't be, ever again. _Oh, Finnick_, she thought, _where are you_? And she cried, her salty tears just like the ocean, and surprised herself when she found her arms wrapped around her bump, as if for protection.

* * *

Gradually, things get easier. Time doesn't heal wounds, but it does gloss them over. It isn't spoken about, but Mrs Everdeen's wedding photo is placed on the bookshelf, and later Annie's joins it.

This baby anchors Annie to the real world, gives her strength to fight the madness gaining on her, an ocean rising inch by inch, closer to her head. Annie fights because of this baby. Nothing else matters to her, her child is the only thing left. Mrs Everdeen admires this strength, and notices with a stab of pain that it was this very strength she lacked.

Katniss comes to visit. She and Mrs Everdeen have a new understanding, and Katniss realizes how alike they really are. Both locked in emptiness, in stillness. In a weird way, Mrs Everdeen feels more alone than ever. Katniss has Peeta, Annie her baby. So she works, and she works, and she works.

One day Annie and Katniss are alone together. They struggle to find a topic. There's too much pain in the past, so they talk about other things – how nice the weather is, their favourite types of flowers. Everything important remains unsaid.

"How can you cope, Annie, with a constant reminder of Fin—" Katniss stops, seeing to look of urgency in Annie's eyes. This baby can't be spoken about, as if even that would leave Annie exposed. The love that stirs in her when she thinks about her child scares her so much that she doesn't think about him. But she does love him, all the same.

Suddenly, she feels her baby kick inside her. She gasps, and sobs come bubbling out of her mouth before she can stop them. She pulls at her hair, presses her hand over her ears, and screams. The flimsy gauze over the wounds Finnick left her with seems feeble and weak, breaking and leaving them jagged and exposed. Finnick. Finnick Finnick Finnick.

Her baby moves more slowly now, and a new terror engulfs her. To love this baby with the same strength as she loved Finnick is dangerous. If anything happened to him, it would kill her. Yet she can't stop loving him. She pictures holding him at birth, teaching him to swim, a million moments with him. And she knows that, while this love may be dangerous, she can't resist it.

Katniss sits next to Annie, tentatively. She places a hand on Annie's shoulder. "It will get easier, Annie. One day, even though it will never go away, you'll realize that you are okay. Fight, Annie. Fight for him."

Annie isn't sure if Katniss means to fight for Finnick or for her son, but she knows that she will. For both of them.

* * *

The first thing Annie notices when her son is born is that he doesn't look like Finnick. He is a little paler than him, and has her dark hair, but he does have Finnick's eyes. He isn't a "little Finnick," like everyone expected him to be. He's a perfect mix, with a special aura about him that's different to both his parents'.

What strikes Annie most about the arrival of her son is the uniqueness of her love for him. It takes a different part of her heart than loving Finnick did, an entirely new part that didn't exist until now. Looking at him takes her breath away.

"How do you feel?" asks the midwife.

Annie says nothing, but she clutches her new baby to her, smoothing back his damp hair, looking into those familiar eyes. She can't describe how she feels. There's loss and sadness, but love, hope, joy are there as well. Annie knows she will fight for her son for the rest of her life.

There's nothing that needs to be said.


End file.
